


Partners In Deduction

by TheresaWritesStuff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-21 15:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheresaWritesStuff/pseuds/TheresaWritesStuff
Summary: When Molly’s roommate commandeers their dorm, Molly is forced to find somewhere else to spend her evening. Before she knows it, she finds her evening saved by a guy by the name of Sherlock Holmes.





	1. Somewhere to pass the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Molly’s roommate commandeers their dorm, Molly is forced to find somewhere else to spend her evening. Before she knows it, she finds her evening saved by a guy by the name of Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Slightly revised for here.   
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.   
> Standard Disclaimer: BBC owns Sherlock, characters from the show, etc., etc. and I do not.  
> This a silly little story. I hope you enjoy it!

Molly roamed the halls of the Baker-Streit dorm, trying to think of ways to pass the time. Her roommate, Sally, had commandeered their room for another “study session” with her lab partner.  _Of all the people to have hanging around their dorm, it just_ had _to be Philip Anderson…_ Molly thought with disgust. Why him? He was just so...irritating! Always trying to man-splain everything, even though he knew full well that she had outscored him on every test they’d had this semester. _Ugh!_

Molly glanced out the window with a sigh. Still pouring. Had it been a nicer night she might have gone to the library across campus. She enjoyed talking with the Librarian, Mrs. Hudson. She always had tea in her office for Molly when she was needing a pick me up. But Molly wasn’t in the mood to trek all the way across campus in the pouring rain for a cup of tea tonight. If this thing with Sally and Anderson kept up though…who knows…She might look into moving into the Library for the rest of the semester.

Continuing her wandering, Molly stopped by the dorm RA’s room. No Greg. Must have gone down to the dining hall. Too bad. He’d had mentioned to her that she was welcome to stop by any time if she wanted someone to hang out and shoot the breeze with… It was going to be a long night. Molly turned her attention to a bulletin board down the hall a ways. Maybe someone was in need of a new roommate…

“Hand me my phone, would you?” A voice asked from the open door next to her.

“I’m sorry?” Molly asked, confused. She poked her head in the open doorway to see a lanky young man with floppy black curls stretched out on a futon, his eyes closed.

“Phone. On the desk next to the skull. Could you hand it to me?”

“Sure…” Molly replied, stepping into the room.

She scanned the messy desk he must have been referring to. Something vibrated underneath an open astronomy textbook sitting next to a human skull.

“Alas, poor Yorik!” She chuckled, picking up the phone to hand it to him. Several text alerts went off before the phone was able to pass hands. Molly tried not to read them but the barrage of alerts popping up on the screen made it hard not to look. All from someone marked in his contacts simply by a cupcake emoji.

“Someone’s eager to talk to you.” She commented.

He glanced at the phones continually buzzing screen. “Ugh. Just Mycroft. I’m starting to think he went to grad school just to keep tabs on me.” He grumbled, disappointedly silencing the phone and tossing it into his slippers. “I was hoping for something more interesting. Missing mascot. Underground ring of bike thieves…I’d even settle for solving the case of what exactly it is they’re serving up as “meatloaf” in the cafeteria.”

Molly smiled. The meatloaf was awful.

“Um…I don’t mean this to sound forward or anything but would you mind if I hung out here for a while?” Molly asked, wringing her hands. “My roommate decided to turn her political science study date into an anatomy lesson…”

“That sounds counterproductive.” He remarked. He looked up at her from his place on the futon for the first time, eyebrow raised and a hint of a smile threatening to reveal itself.

“Sherlock Holmes, at your service.” He answered, offering her a handshake.

“Molly. Molly Hooper.” She replied, gratefully.

“Well Molly, I don’t know how good of company I will be but my roommate, John is out for the evening. He has a …What was the word he used…duel… dissertation…” Sherlock mused.

“A date?” Molly offered, setting down her book bag on the floor.

“Yes! That’s it. At any rate I doubt he’ll be back for quite some time so you’re welcome to make use of his half of the room. I can hack into his Netflix account if you’d like something to watch.”

“Maybe later. I should probably get a head start on studying for my next exam.” Molly attempted to make herself comfortable in one of the over-sized bean bag chairs on the floor, pulling out a textbook from her bag.

“Pre-med. Let me guess, pediatrics?” Sherlock smirked, swinging himself into a more upright position.

“Pathology, actually.” Molly corrected. He seemed impressed… or at least intrigued.  “What about you? What’s your major?”

“Haven’t picked one yet. Mostly because I know it is driving my brother insane. I’ll probably end up doing something with chemistry. Or criminal investigating. Then again I might just sail away one day and become a pirate.”

“You’d make an excellent Dread Pirate Roberts.” Molly joked.

Sherlock looked at her, confused.

“You know… like in The Princess Bride?”

Sherlock shrugged and shook his head, clearly lost.

“You’ve never seen The Princess Bride. Inconceivable!” She laughed. “Alright. Scoot over. Fire up the Netflix. We’re fixing this.”

She got up from the bean bag to join him on the futon.

“So... it’s a movie?” Sherlock asked, still a bit confused by the sudden turn of events.

“Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles… It’s a classic.” Molly declared, handing him a bag of candy from her bag.

“Hm.” He nodded, his interest piqued.

Within moments Sherlock had the movie ready to go. Laptop on Sherlock’s lap. Bowl of popcorn on Molly’s.  Molly sat just close enough that she could comfortably see the computer screen. She wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression. She really was just trying to find a way to kill time while her room was infested with whom she considered an unwelcome pest. Snuggling up to a guy she just met wasn’t her style. Even if that guy had a kind of cute, disarming sense of humor and eyes that felt like they could look right into your soul. _Eyes like the see after a storm… Don’t even think about it, Molly_ she chastised herself. She tried turning her attention to the little boy playing video games on the screen.

“I thought you said there was fencing and monsters in this?” Sherlock complained.

“Shhh.” Molly hushed. “Be patient. Trust me.”

Sherlock smirked and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

* * *

John returned to his dorm, whistling down the hall after a successful evening out only to find his roommate sitting curled up on their futon with a young woman he’d never met, seemingly in the midst of an argument.

“If she loved him so much, then why on earth doesn’t she recognize him?! That mask doesn’t hide that much of his face.” Sherlock snarled

“I told you. It’s been years since she saw him last. She thinks he is dead! She wouldn’t be expecting it to be him.” the girl retorted.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into watching this!” Sherlock grumbled.

“…hi?” John greeted from the doorway, trying to alert them to his presence.

They both looked up, surprised to see him there.

“Molly, this is my roommate John. John this is Molly.” Sherlock introduced, still visibly frustrated.

“Yeah hi…  _that_  is  _my_  laptop. How did you even… nevermind. Just give it.” John remarked, suddenly tired.

He strolled over and retrieved his laptop from Sherlock.

“Booo!” Sherlock complained.

“I’d better get going. Anderson should hopefully have cleared out by now.” Molly said apologetically, packing her things. “Maybe we can finish the movie some other time.”

“What are you doing tomorrow night? I think John’s got another date lined up.” Sherlock joked.

“Sherlock, really.” John admonished

“What? Tonight didn’t go well? Because that lipstick on your collar says otherwise.” Sherlock shot back playfully.

Molly smiled in spite of herself. “Nice meeting you, John. Thanks again, Sherlock…”

She left while she still could, smiling as she heard Sherlock groan while John complained about his lack of respect for boundaries. She smiled all the way back to her room.

_“What are you doing tomorrow night?”…Don’t even think about it, Molly…_

But it was too late. She’d thought about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock finish watching The Princess Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Slightly revised for here.  
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> Standard Disclaimer: BBC owns Sherlock, characters from the show, etc., etc. and I do not.

Molly sat on her dorm room floor as she poured over her notes on the cardiovascular system for what felt like the thousandth time that week. She could feel her eyes starting to glaze over. How long had she been studying? She glanced at her alarm clock. 3 hours. _Ugh!_ No wonder her back was starting to complain…

A knock at their door caused her to look up. Standing in the open doorway was the lanky young man who had saved her from an evening of roaming the halls while her room was “occupied” the night before.

“Sherlock!” Molly said with a smile.

She was a little surprised to see him. While he had offered to hang out again after their impromptu viewing of The Princess Bride had been interrupted, she’d just assumed it was to get in a dig at his roommate, John, for reclaiming his laptop after Sherlock “borrowed” it.

“Hi.”

He leaned his slender frame casually against the door post, looking rather dashing in a Belstaff coat and indigo scarf Molly thought.

“Found this wedged in the futon this afternoon.” He tossed her something which she clumsily managed to catch. Her phone!

“I wondered where this went! I nearly turned Conan Hall upside down looking for it.”

“I hope you lifted with your knees. Conan’s a good sized building. Can’t have you hurting yourself this close to midterms,” he quipped playfully.  Molly couldn’t help but laugh.

Her roommate Sally glanced down in annoyance at the two of them from where she lay reading on her loft bed.

“Aren’t you the freak who was guessing people’s majors based on their socks the other day?” She asked condescendingly.

Molly shot her a look.

“It was their shoes,” Sherlock retorted. “And I never ‘ _guess_.’ Though now that you mention it, judging by the state of your socks you might want to reconsider your field of study. Have you ever considered something more mechanically inclined?”

“Whatever…” Sally grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Do you want to grab a bite to eat or something?” Molly asked Sherlock, attempting to divert attention from her roommate’s rude behavior.

“That’d be great,” Sherlock replied with a grin, his tone almost taunting Sally; a cheerful threat to come around more often.

Molly grabbed her jacket and bag and strolled out to meet him, making sure her phone was securely in her pocket this time.

“Seriously though, have you ever considered a career in air conditioner repair?” Sherlock jabbed before closing the door and following Molly into the hall. There was a loud thud against the door as what Molly assumed was Sally’s book hit squarely where Sherlock’s head would have been.

“I’m really sorry about that. My roommate she can…fuss,” Molly offered apologetically as they strolled down the hall, hoping he would catch her reference. She wasn’t sure how much he would remember having never seen The Princess Bride until she’d forced him to watch it with her.

Sherlock smiled. “I think she likes to scream at  _us_.” He did get the reference. Good.

“Probably she means no  _harm_ …” She continued, keeping her tone casual as she fought a smile.

“She’s really very short on… _charm_!” Sherlock replied cheekily.

Molly couldn’t contain her grin any longer. “You’ve a great gift for rhyme.”

“Yes, yes… Some of the time.”

The two of them laughed, amused by this new little game. Molly began to relax a little, seeing that he wasn’t too phased by Sally’s unwelcome remarks.

“Did John ever let you finish the movie after I left?” Molly asked.

“No. He says he’s got a deadline for his piece in the school paper and has been guarding his laptop ever since he got back from his date,” Sherlock complained.

“What’s he writing about?” Molly inquired.

“Oh, I have no clue. I wasn’t listening when he told me,” Sherlock admitted with a shrug, not a trace of guilt in his voice.

Molly smiled. Most people she knew wouldn’t admit to that so unabashedly.

“How about we ask Greg? I’m sure he’d know,” She suggested, noticing the open door to their RA’s room.

“Greg?” Sherlock asked, confused.

“Yeah. He’s the editor of the paper,” Molly explained.

“I thought his name was Gavin…” Sherlock mused, sounding even more befuddled.

“Hey Greg,” she greeted cheerily, poking her head into the doorway.

“Molly! Hi,” Greg replied, looking up from the slew of papers spread out in front of him. “What can I do for you?”

“Just answer a quick question for us. What is it that John is writing about for the next issue? Sherlock is bad at listening,” She laughed.

“I was otherwise focused,” Sherlock corrected defensively.

“Right. John’s article…Let me see…” Greg began scrolling through a list taped to his computer. “I gave him free reign on this one. I’ve been thinking about giving someone a regular column in the paper and he’s one of our better writers…Ah! Here we go. ‘Stressful environments and their lasting effects on mental health.’ Topical given impending midterms. I’m interested to see if he will tie in any of his experience with the National Guard.”

“Cool. Thanks Greg!” Molly smiled, heading back into the hall.

“Yeah, sure. Anytime,” Greg responded, looking over his list again.

Sherlock gave him an exaggerated cheery wave before following Molly.

“I’d be careful, Molly. Graham’s harboring a bit of a crush on you.” Sherlock remarked, falling in stride with her.

“It’s Greg, Sherlock. Not Graha—What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why is that ridiculous? I’m just making a deduction. I wouldn’t bother pursuing anything if I were you though. He’s got an ‘on again off again’ girlfriend back home. I’d give it a month tops before things swing back to being very much ‘on again.’ Side note! Our RA is already going prematurely grey. Hair is recently dyed to try and hide it. I don’t think newspaper work suits him.”

“How do you know?” Molly asked, curious.

“’You ever heard of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates?’” Sherlock quoted.

“Yes…” Molly replied, smiling in spite of herself at his ego.

“’Morons.’” Sherlock grinned cheekily, tapping his temple.

Molly chuckled. “You know if you wanted to finish watching it, I’m pretty sure Mrs. Hudson has a copy at the library. We could…”

She was interrupted as the dark haired coed she knew as Jim flitted his way down the hall, dramatically reciting a passage of Dylan Thomas poetry to himself. When he noticed them he turned his energy towards a full performance, making them his audience.

“Do not go  _gentle_  into that good night, Old age should  _burn_  and  **rave** at close of day;” Jim strolled around them in a sort of half dance, half prowl. “ _Rage_ ,  ** _RAGE_**  against the  **dying**  of the  _light_. Though wise men at their  _end_  know  **dark**  is  _right_ , because their words had  **forked**  no  _lightning_  they…Do  _not_ …go gentle… into that…good  _night_.”

Jim winked as he gave them an exaggerated courtly bow and a glance at Sherlock as if sizing him up before flitting away as quickly as he arrived.

Sherlock stood in confused silence for a moment. “What was that?”

“That was Jim,” Molly said with a shrug. “He’s always doing goofy things like that. He’s in theater. I think the weird intonation is his way of warming up his vocal chords or something. He’s been doing stuff like that ever since rehearsals for Into the Woods started a few weeks ago. You get used to it… I’m surprised you haven’t heard the show tunes blaring from his dorm.”

“Hm…” Sherlock hummed as a half reply. “So you were saying something about the library. I know of a good food truck that is usually parked over that way. We could grab some chips for the walk over there.”

“Sounds perfect.” Molly smiled.

The air was crisp with the smell of fallen leaves as they strolled across campus together. There was a chill in the air that tickled her nose, but the sun was shining, bathing the ivy covered buildings in golden light. Molly couldn’t help but notice how the sun played on Sherlock’s raven curls.

“So that thing you do…deductions…Think you could teach me how to do that?” Molly asked curiously after a moment’s hesitation as they paid for their food.

“Possibly…” Sherlock replied. “It’s simple observation and reasoning, really. Why?”

“Seems like a useful skill to have.” Molly shrugged.

Sherlock smirked, taking a bite of his chips. “Most people find it ‘obnoxious’ from my experience. But they might just be talking about me. I make deductions by observing… little things. It’s the little details most people don’t notice that can tell you everything you need to know about a person. So many people  _see_  but they do not  _observe_.”

“And what do you observe about me?” She asked.

He hesitated, surprised by her question.

“Go on. Deduce me, Sherlock Holmes,” Molly laughed in a moment of boldness she quickly regretted.

Sherlock absentmindedly licked the ketchup from his thumb as he looked her over while they walked. She really hoped she had said deduce and not  _seduce_  by accident…

“Alright… For starters your name is Molly Hooper. 18 years old, though you probably have a birthday coming up sometime soon. Pre-med—pathology as I learned yesterday—You’re here on a full ride scholarship, but you’re still considering getting a job on campus, possibly looking to change your living arrangements next semester if you can manage it financially, a wise choice I might add. Ms. Donovan and you are not ideal living companions. Real mix up on housing’s part. Though I would be interested to see which one of you would win in a fist fight. My money’s on Donovan. No offense.”

Molly smacked his arm lightly.

“Ooh. Definitely Donovan,” He chuckled. “You’re from the suburbs but you like the idea of city life. You’re what your friends refer to as the “mom friend” due to your tendency to look after others before yourself, possibly an older sibling trait or just behavior stemming from your own insecurities  _and_  because you always have snacks in your bag. You have a cat named Toby back home that you’re extremely fond of. You’ve visited your family several weekends in a row recently, concerned about your father’s health I assume…” Sherlock paused, realizing he may have struck a nerve mentioning her family. “Also, you recently took up knitting…”

“…Wow,” Molly replied after a moment. “That’s incredible…Did you go through my mobile before you brought it back?” That last part was a joke. Sort of.

Sherlock relaxed a bit, seeing that he hadn’t upset her.

“Molly Hooper you insult me… I found you on Facebook.” He teased. “Though I could have told you most of that from things on your person right now. Knitting needles sticking out of your purse. Flyer stubs for flats near campus hanging out of your pocket. You lingered on the help wanted signs at the food truck and the coffee shop we passed earlier, plus your felt the need to apologize for Sally—Not necessary by the way. I’m used to that sort of thing… Charm bracelet with a cat charm and the letters T-O-B-Y. Bit of a giveaway. Cat hair on your jumper. Your shoes have traces of mud, but we haven’t had rain here in almost a month, hence the visits home. You had candy readily available yesterday…Might I request you start carrying ginger nuts? Love me some ginger nuts.”

“Alright! I believe you. Sherlock Holmes: master of the art of deduction. No peeking at text messages required. Consider me thoroughly impressed,” Molly laughed.

“Is that a yes to the ginger nuts then?” He asked cheekily.

“Sure…”She smiled. “…Do you mind if I try to do you? Deduce you I mean…”

“You can try…” Sherlock twirled around, walking backwards in front of her, arms open as an invitation.

“Sherlock Holmes. 19. You have an older brother Mycroft enrolled in grad school who is either incredibly fond of cake or you two have oddly cutesy pet names for each other, but I’m guessing it is the first given how you seem to find him overbearing.”

Sherlock chuckled, munching on his chips as they walked, clearly entertained hearing someone else try their hand at deduction.

Molly continued “Personally, I think he worries about you. Maybe for good reason… You’re clearly very clever. You like to show off. You like having the last word. You like to see if you can get a rise out of people. I could see how that could get you into trouble… You have a blatant disregard for boundaries when it comes to other people’s things, though that could be just with John… I think it is your way of showing you’re comfortable around them. That you’ve got them figured out and you still like them. You like when people think you’re smart. Good with details. Terrible with names. You focus on information that is useful or interesting to you and ignore it if it isn’t. You’re horribly disorganized. A bit aloof, possibly out of self-defense. Definitely more caring than you would let on…”

“You might be giving me too much credit with that last one, Molly,” He said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Not from what I’ve observed,” Molly assured him, staring down at her chips rather than meeting his eyes. “How’d I do?”

“Ehh… Not bad,” he joked. “Better than most. You’re a bit too sentimental but with a little practice… who knows? You did miss a big one though…”

“And what’s that?” Molly asked.

“Sherlock is my middle name.” He grinned.

“Ooooh…Do I get a hint?” Molly prodded, intrigued.

“Nope!” He laughed, popping the ‘p’.

“Oh, come on! Arthur…Abel…Alfred…Benedict…At least tell me if I’m getting close!”

“That’s not how deduction works, Molly,” he chided, trying to hide his amusement and failing as he leaned into the library door to open it.  

“Evening Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock greeted, whipping off his scarf and stuffing it into his coat pocket as he approached the front desk.

“Sherlock. Always a pleasure… And Molly! I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Mrs. Hudson smiled up at them.

“Just recently acquainted,” Molly replied shyly.

“Enough about that. We are in need of a dvd player and directions to the library’s film section. And some popcorn if you have it,” Sherlock said, getting right down to business.

“I made Sherlock watch part of the Princess Bride and now he wants to know how it ends,” Molly explained.

“I like knowing if my deductions are right…” Sherlock retorted.

“Ah! Say no more.” Mrs. Hudson nodded knowingly. “Film section is in the back to the left of the English literature. Dvd player is to be returned to my desk before you leave.” She produced a small portable dvd player from a drawer in her desk and handed it to Molly.

“And the popcorn…?”Sherlock asked.

“Not your mother, Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson replied without looking up from her files.

The corners of Sherlock’s mouth twitched upward as he took his cue to move along and let Mrs. Hudson work. Molly smiled and murmured a quiet thank you to her as she followed.

The library was fairly deserted, save for a few students studying here and there. Most of the students had made their way to the dining halls for dinner. The two of them set up in a secluded corner where they wouldn’t bother anyone too much with the sound from their movie. Mrs. Hudson had neglected to give them headphones.

They sat on the floor, leaning against the bookshelves for support. Molly used her purse to prop the small screen a little higher off the floor while Sherlock stretched his legs, taking up the entire width of the aisle. Molly fidgeted, trying to find a position that wouldn’t aggravate her back any more than she already had from her study session on the floor earlier. What did she have against proper furniture these days?

“Here,” Sherlock offered, rolling his coat into a sort of cushion for the two of them.

“Thanks,” Molly replied, gratefully.

It meant sitting closer than she normally would have, but she wasn’t about to turn down a relief from the hard shelf behind them that was digging into her already protesting muscles. They sat shoulder to shoulder, doing their best to share his coat and get a decent view of the tiny screen propped up in front of them.

“Illinois suburbs. Chicago area. Just after Christmas…Of course he’s going to pinch your cheek, kid. It’s what old people do! Why do mothers never listen?…” Sherlock commented quietly to himself.

“Are you going to make deductions through the whole movie?” Molly asked.

“You said you wanted to learn. I thought I would share my observations,” Sherlock explained.

“How about we just compare notes at the end?” She chuckled.

Sherlock smirked, but seemed to concede, keeping his commentary to himself.

Molly couldn’t help but smile when she could tell he found something amusing.

_Who was this love of yours? Another Prince, like this one, ugly, rich, and scabby?_

“Broken toe,” Sherlock murmured absent mindedly to her.

“What?” She asked, startled. He’d done a remarkable job staying quiet up until that point.

“Broken toe. Westley…The actor playing Westley. See the way he’s holding himself? …I thought you might find it interesting,” He explained. “Sorry…I’ll shut up now.”

“It’s fine. I never noticed that before…” Molly replied.

Sherlock smiled a little, pleased he was able to show her something new about a film she knew so well, and turned his attention back to the screen.

Molly could feel her heart begin to flutter in her chest when he smiled at her. He was really sweet in his own Sherlock kind of way. His adorably floppy mass of curls and captivating blue-green eyes didn’t hurt either…

Molly did her best to focus on the movie, occasionally glancing over at Sherlock to watch his reactions to some of her favorite one-liners. He seemed rather engrossed in the story now that they’d reached the part he hadn’t seen. As Westley and Buttercup made their way through the fire swamp, she felt him stiffen nervously beside her.

_Westley. What about the ROUS’s?_

_Rodents of unusual size? I don’t think they exist…_

Molly suddenly felt Sherlock’s hand grab her own as Westley grappled with the oversized vermin. She looked up in surprise. He didn’t seem aware that he had done it, still watching the tiny screen in front of them intently. She gave his hand a tiny, reassuring squeeze. He glanced over at her, giving her a faint smile. He almost seemed embarrassed.

He loosened his grip slightly, but he didn’t pull away completely to Molly’s surprise. The feeling of having his hand on hers sent her heart racing. Hesitantly, she ran her thumb lightly along his hand and felt his long, elegant fingers entwine with her own. And there they stayed, his thumb tracing patterns along her skin as he thought, deducing what plot developments would happen next. She smiled to herself every time she felt his fingers absently curl a little tighter as the action on the screen heightened. Despite the fluttering in her chest, there was something very easy about being here with him like this. Something warm and comfortable. She allowed herself to lean a little more against his shoulder, fighting hard not to completely dissolve into his purple t-shirt.

_And as dawn arose, Westley and Buttercup knew they were safe. A wave of love swept over them. And as they reached for each other…_

Oh no…This part always made her cry. Molly swallowed, blinking back her tears, feeling like a sap. She felt Sherlock squeeze her hand gently.

  
_What? What?_

_  
Nah, it’s kissing again. You don’t want to hear it._

_  
I don’t mind so much._

Sherlock chuckled quietly. He turned to look at her and somehow she brought herself to meet his eyes. She hadn’t realized just how close they were… He gave her a playful half smile as if to say ‘I can’t believe you made me watch this chick flick…but I liked it.’ There was something else in his eyes; something hesitant and searching and curious…

_Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind._

Molly could feel herself drifting closer to him, their noses almost touching. His gaze never wavered from her face. He was holding his breath. Molly closed her eyes, leaning in gently…

Suddenly a piercing scream came echoing from somewhere in the library.

They pulled back, startled. Whatever moment it was that they’d had, it was gone… Without a word the two of them ran toward the source of the scream. The found Mrs. Hudson standing on the stairway that led to the lower level of the library, shaking visibly; the papers she’d been carrying scattered over the steps.

“Mrs. Hudson, are you alright?” Sherlock asked when they reached her, gently rubbing her shoulder in concern as he looked her over.

“Oh, Sherlock. It’s awful…Sam…He’s…he’s been impaled…” Mrs. Hudson sobbed, pointing shakily toward the bottom of the stairs.

Sherlock and Molly turned to look where Mrs. Hudson was pointing. At the bottom of the stairs, a janitor—Sam his name must have been—lay in a pool of blood on the floor, eyes staring blankly in shock ahead of him; A saber through his chest.

“Oh no…” Molly breathed. She made her way quickly down the stairs, her brain racing as she tried to remember every medical note she’d ever taken. She checked his vitals in vain…The sword was lodged upward through his diaphragm, likely pierced through his heart judging by the amount of blood.

“Care to make any deductions, Molly?” Sherlock asked gently as he joined her, pulling a magnifying glass from his pocket.

“Judging by the angle of entry and the amount of blood…the sword pierced through his right ventricle, nicking the pulmonary artery… So, um…murdered by pirates is good..?” She couldn’t believe she was making jokes at a time like this…

Sherlock bit back a smile as he looked over the body. “Pirates? Unlikely…but murder… Yes. Definitely murder…Oh this is exciting!”

He stood, putting his magnifying glass away and pulling out his phone. “John, scrap whatever you’ve written for that puff piece and come down to the library now. We’ve got ourselves a murder on campus!”

Molly followed as Sherlock bounded up the stairs.

“What? They’ll just get in the way of us solving…Oh, alright fine I’ll call the police–Molly, call the police, would you?–Just get down here, John!” He hung up without another word. Mrs. Hudson seemed to have collected herself a little. Molly patted the librarians shoulder gently, trying to reassure her while she spoke to the emergency operator over the phone, explaining the situation. Other students had begun to gather.

“Molly?” Sherlock asked after she’d hung up, drawing her to the side of the crowd that was beginning to form. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah. I’m…I’m fine. A little shocked I think, but I’ll be alright. Thanks,” she replied, glancing over at Mrs. Hudson to make sure she was okay. Another student was comforting her. Good.

“Tonight was…I…I enjoyed your company. I don’t enjoy most people, but you… Do you think you’d like to, maybe…” Sherlock faltered a bit, searching for his words.

“Yes, Sherlock?” Molly asked.

“Do you want to help me solve a murder?” He asked, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

She smiled half-heartedly. It wasn’t quite the question she hoped he was going to ask.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

“Excellent! I could use a good pathologist. Don’t give me that look. I can already tell you’re going to be a great doctor.” He could hardly contain his excitement. He grabbed her hands, smiling brightly at her, his eyes sparkling. “Finally! A proper case to solve! The game is on, Molly Hooper. The game is on!”

He was really cute when he was excited about a murder, Molly thought, fully aware of how odd that sentiment would sound out loud.

“I forgot our things…” Sherlock gasped. “Wait here. I’ll be right back!”

Molly smiled as she watched him run off, nearly skipping with glee.

“As you wish…” she sighed to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More coming soon. I'd love to hear from you in the comments


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly has an unpleasant chat over coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Slightly revised for here.  
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> Standard Disclaimer: BBC owns Sherlock, characters from the show, etc., etc. and I do not.

Molly shoved her hands into the pockets of her favorite red hoodie as she entered her favorite coffee shop. She was exhausted and needed the comfort of a few favorites.

After the news of Sam Philpot’s murder the night before spread across campus, many of the professors had decided it best to cancel their morning classes. Not Professor Whitman, though. Noooo… Anatomy 104 would continue as scheduled. Bright and early at 7:00 am. After the late night that Molly had had, coupled with the barrage of questions that morning from her curious classmates who’d found out she was one of the first ones on the scene, she felt she deserved to treat herself to a little after class pick-me-up.

Before she could place her order, the barista handed her a large to-go cup.

“Double espresso for you, Molly. Curtesy of that gentleman over there,” she explained, gesturing to a man sitting with his back to her at one of the corner tables.

Molly sighed, not in the mood for surprises, but took the coffee from her.

“Thanks, Kathy.” Molly attempted a tired smile.

“Cough twice if you need rescuing. Stranger danger and all that,” Kathy replied with a wink.

Molly let out a deep breath, mentally bracing herself as she walked over to meet her caffeine benefactor.

“Do sit down, Miss Hooper. This won’t take long,” he said, not bothering to look up from the files in front of him.

Molly sat, eyeing the man across from her warily as she sipped her free espresso.

He was the definition of “put together” dressed in a suit and tie, his russet hair combed neatly; a cup of earl grey tea sitting off to the side of his work. His cool demeanor exuded an air of high-brow self-importance. She estimated him to be somewhere in his mid, possibly late twenties, though he was already starting to exhibit fine lines about his eyes and forehead.

“I’m sorry…who are you?” She asked.

“I’d like to think that is rather obvious.”

He snapped his file shut and folded his hands over top of the folder, meeting her eyes with an insincere half smile. There might not have been much in the way of a family resemblance, but his mannerisms spoke volumes as he gave her a familiar head tilt.

“Mycroft?”

“Very good, Miss Hooper. You’re much quicker on the uptake than that John fellow. I’m starting to understand why my brother has selected you as one of his companions,” Mycroft replied coolly.

“One of his friends you mean.” Molly set down her drink, trying to determine what he could possibly want from her.

“Whatever term you prefer. Doesn’t make much of a difference to me.”

“Right… What is this about?” She asked, already growing tired of this conversation.

Her phone buzzed somewhere in her purse.

“As I am sure you are aware, Miss Hooper, My brother has a curious mind. It often leads him to poke around in things that he shouldn’t. As his… _friend_ …I was hoping you could be persuaded into keeping him  _occupied_. Out of trouble as it were,” Mycroft replied, attempting a charming smile.

“Occupied?” Molly repeated. “You mean distract him from investigating the murder case?”

“Don’t sound so offended. I wasn’t insinuating anything  _indelicate_  on your part. I was only suggesting that you provide Sherlock with something else to focus his time and energy towards. Something healthier. Something less volatile.  My brother is bright but he is hardly equipped for handling a ‘case’ of this magnitude. You’d be doing him a favor,” Mycroft drolled.

“I doubt Sherlock would see it that way.” Molly leaned back in her chair, fishing her phone out from her purse. There was a text from Sherlock.

_Come to 221b if convenient._

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose before responding. “It was one thing when Sherlock was playing detective by solving the case of the missing car keys and who’s been stealing dishes from the cafeteria, but this is serious, Miss Hooper. A man has been murdered. Best to leave this one to the professionals, don’t you think?”

Buzz went her phone again.

_If inconvenient, come anyway._

“Sherlock could solve it faster…” Molly replied under her breath, fighting a smile as she read the text.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid he will try to do,” Mycroft admonished coolly. “Would you at least consider keeping me informed as to what he’s up to? I’m fairly well connected. I could make it worth your while.” There was that attempt at a charming smile again.

“You want me spy on him for you?” Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Your words, not mine.” Mycroft shrugged.

“I think you are already perfectly capable of keeping tabs on your brother without my help,” Molly replied flatly, standing up from the table. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Buzz went her phone.

_Bring snacks. John is starting to get crabby._

She took a step towards the door. Something made her pause as she remembered her conversation with Sherlock about Mycroft from the night before.  _He worries about you. Maybe for good reason…_

She sighed in resignation. “I won’t be your spy, Mycroft. But I  _will_  look out for him. I promise.”

His cold exterior cracked for just a moment as Molly saw the hint of genuine emotion flicker across Mycroft’s face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Do let me know if he gets himself in over his head,” Mycroft replied casually, holding out his business card to her between two of his fingers.

Molly took the card from him and stuffed it into her pocket, making her way back to the Baker-Streit dorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More coming soon. I'd love to hear from you in the comments


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly has a run-in with an a cappella group and helps Sherlock with the case.   
> *Warning: brief mention of drug use*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Slightly revised for here.  
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> Standard Disclaimer: BBC owns Sherlock, characters from the show, etc., etc. and I do not.

Molly gulped down her caffeinated bribe as she walked across campus, trying to drown her frustrations in espresso. She probably shouldn’t even have accepted it, but there was no way she was passing up free coffee after the morning she’d had. She could feel Mycroft’s business card sitting in her pocket, practically taunting her. But she  _had_  made herself clear to Mycroft that she was in no way willing to help with his dirty work…right? Taking his card was just for emergencies…in case anything happened…

Molly sighed, tossing her empty cup in the garbage can as she tried to banish that last thought from her head.

“Owww! Who’s that I see walkin’ in these woods?” A familiar voice called out playfully.

Molly looked up to see Jim lounging on the steps leading to the Saintsbury Theater with his a cappella group.

“Why, it’s Little Red Riding Hood.” Jim slid down the railing to meet her while his friends started singing a doo-wop harmony to back up his serenade.

_“Hey there Little Red Riding Hood, you sure are looking good. You’re everything a big bad wolf could want.”_

Molly smiled half-heartedly at the serenaded compliment, feeling a bit frumpy in her red hoodie and messy ponytail.

“I get it. Very funny, but I really don’t have time right now…” She replied, attempting to politely go on her way.  Jim grabbed her hand, preventing her from leaving. She was to be a captive audience it seemed.

“Listen to me.” He grinned playfully at her as he linked his arm with hers, bringing her on a dance-like stroll in front of stairs as he continued to sing.  _“Little Red Riding Hood, I don’t think little big girls should, go walking in these spooky old woods alone. Owwwww!”_

Molly couldn’t help but laugh at the howl.

 _“What big eyes you have. The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad. So just to see that you don’t get chased I think I ought to walk with you for a ways.”_  He gave her a little twirl, releasing her and clasping his hands behind his back, doing a mock-shy shuffle next to her.  _“What full lips you have. They’re sure to lure someone bad. So until you get to grandma’s place, I think you ought to walk with me and be safe.”_

Molly laughed and applauded, bringing the performance to an end. She’d had enough of being sung to, but her mood was significantly improved by it. “Bravo!”

“Thank you! Thank you. Oh, you’re too kind. Really…” Jim responded in exaggerated humility, taking a couple deep bows. “Alright boys, beat it.” He snapped his fingers at the rest of the group.

The guys on the steps started up a rendition of Michael Jackson’s Beat It.

Jim chuckled, smiling and shooing them playfully with his hands while his eyes shot them a look that clearly meant ‘scram!’ They took the hint rather quickly.

“Thank you for that. I needed a laugh,” Molly said.

“You looked like you were having a rough morning.” Jim shrugged. “Where are you off to?”

“Just heading back to the Baker-Streit,” Molly replied.

“I’ve got a class over that way in a little bit. Mind if I tag along? The song is right, you know. Little big girls shouldn’t go walking in these spooky old woods alone,” He teased.

“Yeah, sure. If you want to.” Molly shrugged as they started walking. “Although, I have a feeling I’m pretty safe in broad daylight. Not to mention the extra campus security.” She nodded and gave a polite wave to the campus police officer standing on the corner; one of the many that the Dean had had stationed around campus. So far the added security had only increased the number of parking tickets.

“I suppose… Still… can’t be too careful…” Jim smiled as he walked belong side her, his hands in his coat pockets. “It’s a shame about that janitor. What a way to go…” A grimaced crossed his face.

“No kidding!” Molly replied with a melancholy chuckle. “Poor Mr. Philpot…Poor Mrs. Hudson for being the one to find him like that! Sherlock and I are working on trying to figure out who killed him. Well, mostly Sherlock. I’m pretty sure he just asked for my help for the medical side of things. Better access to the labs and whatnot…”

“Sounds gruesome! Isn’t that a little dangerous? The police are already investigating.”

“I suppose… but you weren’t there, Jim. I  _saw_  Mr. Philpot lying there, blood everywhere… and I just…I don’t know. I feel like I have to do  _something_. He deserves to have his killer brought to justice.” Molly looked at the ground ahead of them, trying not to dwell on the memory of the janitor’s impaled corpse.

“That’s very noble of you,” Jim replied. “Well, if you find out anything let me know. I’d love to hear about your progress on the case. Just spare me the gory details… I don’t have the stomach for it.”

“Sure thing.” Molly smiled. “You’re a good friend, Jim.”

“Well I don’t know about that, but I’m glad you think so,” Jim chuckled self-deprecatingly.

“This is my stop… Thanks for the company Jim,” Molly said once they reached Baker-Streit.

“Sure thing. See you around Little Red,” Jim replied cheekily.

“See you around Big Bad,” Molly laughed.

“Oooowww!” Jim howled playfully as he walked off.

Molly chuckled to herself as she walked up the stairs into Baker-Streit. Jim could be a bit over the top, but he was certainly never boring to be around.

She made her way quickly up to dorm 221b, pausing a second outside the door to apply a tinted lip balm and attempt to fix her hair before entering.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late,” she greeted as she entered. “I got stuck as one of Jim’s captive audiences on my way here.”

“It’s fine.” Sherlock replied absently, never taking his eyes off of the array of crime scene photos of Mr. Philpot’s murder and scraps of paper pinned to the wall in front of him, his fingers steepled under his chin deep in thought.

Molly set her bag down on the floor, pulling out a few bags of trail mix. “So I had an interesting conversation with your favorite sibling at the coffee shop this morning, Sherlock,” she said, attempting to make conversation.

“Mmmm…Coffee…” John groaned tiredly from the futon, a biology text book tented over his face.

Molly smiled and gently set a bag of trail mix next to him, taking a seat by his feet.

“Which one?” Sherlock asked absently, eyes still never leaving the wall in front of him.

“Mycroft…” Molly replied, a little confused by his response.

“Right, of course. Typical,” Sherlock sighed, still not giving the conversation his full attention.

“Wait a minute, what do you mean  _‘which one?’_ ” John asked, removing the textbook from his face. “I thought you just had the one brother?”

“What? Yes. I do.” Sherlock responded, sounding a little annoyed as his focus was drawn away from the mass of information before him.

“You have a sister? You never mentioned her before,” Molly said with smile, filling in the obvious. Sherlock seemed like the protective brother type… in a much more endearing way than Mycroft. She was still a little on edge from her conversation with the elder Holmes.

“You have a  _sister_?” John demanded. “Why am I just hearing about this?”

“No I…It’s…Fine… _Yes_  I have a sister. Eurus is… She has her own issues to deal with… I don’t really like talking about it…” Sherlock glanced at Molly with an apologetic look. “Aside from my dislike of the subject, I never mentioned my sister because that information was never relevant to you, John. That and your tendency to flirt with anything in a skirt.”

“ _Excuse me_? Are you insinuating that I would try to hit on your sister?  _Your_ sister?” John scoffed.

“John, really…You know I’d trust you with my own life but you do have a certain track record regarding those of the opposite sex…” Sherlock smirked as he tried to turn his attention back to the photos on the wall.

“Can you believe this guy?” John asked Molly rhetorically. “First he keeps me up all night making his  _murder wall_  and now he insults my honor as a gentleman. I would  _never_  make a pass at a mate’s sister. Certainly not  _his_  sister…”

Molly patted John’s arm sympathetically. “I’ll make you some tea,” she offered, standing up.

“She probably looks like Sherlock in a dress…” he grumbled.

“You wish…” Sherlock retorted cheekily.

Molly bit back a laugh as she knelt by the small cart that held their microwave and a few other assorted items. She filled a mug with water from the filtered pitcher on the bottom rack and popped it in the microwave to warm as she looked for a box of teabags among the shelves. That was when she noticed a familiar board game attached to the wall by a Swiss army knife.

“Why is there a Cluedo board stabbed to your wall?” Molly asked.

“You don’t want to know…” John chuckled tiredly. “Just never  _ever_ play that game with him. It will not end well…”

Molly smiled. “No I suppose it wouldn’t…”she laughed. Then an idea came to her…

“You know… they made a movie out of the American version. It’s pretty good. Lots of great comedic actors… It might be worth watching sometime for a movie night…”she suggested conspiratorially.

“Oh yeah! I think I’ve seen that one…”John smiled. “That’s the one with the…*three different endings?*” He mouthed the last few words, holding up three fingers.

Molly grinned and nodded with a wink. Sherlock was not paying the two of them any attention.  

“Ooooh that should be fun,” John chuckled deviously as he rubbed his hands together.

“Molly could you come take a look at—what are you too snickering about?” Sherlock asked, finally noticing their poorly suppressed giggling.

“Just planning a movie night for when this case done and things have calmed down a bit,” Molly explained, handing John his mug of tea and walking over to stand next to Sherlock. “We’re thinking a certain ‘80s murder mystery comedy.”

“Interesting genre combination… Are all the films you’re planning to force on me from that decade?” Sherlock quipped.

“No…” Molly laughed. “There’s a whole bunch of Pixar on that list too.”

“There’s a list now?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.

“A small mental list. Nothing written down…just a couple dozen films or so…” Molly shrugged.

“A couple dozen? That might take a while, Molly…” Sherlock replied with a surprised chuckle, glancing down at her.

“Well I guess we should hurry up and solve this case, Sherlock…” she responded playfully.

“I guess we should,” he agreed, smiling down at her in kind.

“Hamish!” John interjected suddenly. They both turned to face him, confused by the outburst.

“John Hamish Watson. In case you two are looking for baby names…” he replied teasingly, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m going to go stretch my legs a minute. You kid’s behave yourself.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the wink his friend gave him before exiting the dorm.

“…So you wanted me to take a look at something on the wall?” Molly asked.

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Yes! Right… do you notice anything strange about Mr. Philpot’s injuries?” He asked.

“Aside from being murdered with a weapon that hasn’t been popular since the 18th century?” Molly replied, studying the pictures pinned to the wall.

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched upwards a bit, but she could tell he was seriously asking for her opinion now.  

“There isn’t really any sign of struggle other than the um, impalement. No lacerations or bruises…which is weird right? …It’s almost as if it was an accident…”

“My thoughts exactly. Or at the very least, not premeditated… Mr. Philpot was just in the wrong place at the wrong time… so why would our murderer have a sword?” Sherlock mused.

“Do you think they were part of the fencing team? The entry wound is fairly clean. Whoever did it probably had some level of sword training…” Molly offered.

“Fencing swords aren’t sharp… And this sabre looks more like a standard sword rather than a fencing sabre…” Sherlock reminded her.

“It almost looks like a prop…” Molly thought aloud.

“A prop…Oh that’s brilliant! Who else could walk around campus with a sabre without raising too many eyebrows? Fencers wouldn’t bother carrying their gear with them to the library…but a drama student who just learned the term ‘method acting’…” Sherlock grinned at her, eyes gleaming as he began pacing about the room.

“That still doesn’t explain why they would have attacked Mr. Philpot…” Molly pointed out.

“What if they had something to hide… a shady deal in a secluded stairway…Mr. Philpot discovers them on his way to clean the lower level, catching them by in the act! They turn around in a panic and HAH!” Sherlock mimed an excited stab in the air in front of him.

“But why would they stab him? Why not just knock him over the head or something?”

“Because our murderer was high as a kite when Mr. Philpot came upon their shady misdoings,” Sherlock replied, pulling a scrap of paper from the wall and presenting it to her.

“What is this?” She asked.

“ _That_ , my dear Molly Hooper, is blotter paper full of LSD.” He grinned. “Mr. Philpot must have caught our murderer buying drugs, or more likely, exchanging them for something. Not many of our fellow classmates have enough pocket change for this kind of thing. It’s not the cheap stuff people could get off any street corner… It would have to have been a trade. Something valuable…but what?

“Sherlock…where did you get that?” Molly breathed, trying to keep her voice low and calm despite the sudden queasy feeling in her gut.

“Same place we found Mr. Philpot. I noticed a few of these scattered in the corner of the landing when I went back to get a few snapshots of the crime scene, so I followed a hunch and picked one up to test in the lab.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Sherlock… this would be considered  _evidence_. You can’t just…Sherlock you could get in serious trouble for having this! If they caught you they could arrest you for tampering with a police investigation or worse! Please tell me you didn’t…?” Molly stared up at him, eyes wide with worry.

“What? No…Molly I just took the one to examine what it was. There were several there for the police to find. There’s no way they would trace this one back to me. I was careful, I promise…I didn’t ‘field test’ it if that’s what you’re asking. I tested this under a microscope during open lab. I’m clean as a whistle. I don’t even smoke anymore.” Sherlock rolled up his sleeve revealing two nicotine patches on his forearm.

“Sherlock…”

“I went through a bit of a rebellious phase in high school but I swore off cigarettes when I came here. Too expensive a habit to justify with the price of tuition… The patches help me focus on a case… but that’s it Molly,” he explained.

Sherlock gently held her shoulders as he looked her in the eyes. Molly took a deep breath to quiet her nerves.

“Alright. I trust you, Sherlock.” Molly replied. “You already ran all the tests you need on this?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Because we are flushing that before anyone has the chance to catch you with it. Can’t have the best detective on the case getting busted for drug possession, now can we?” Molly attempted a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Deal.” Sherlock chuckled, giving her a soft smile. He seemed touched by her concern. They both turned back to the wall in front of them, assessing this new information.

“So our culprit is a strung out drama student with a reason to carry a sword—well as much of a reason as any of them seem to have for doing anything—and some experience with using one…” Sherlock mused.

“Shouldn’t be too hard to narrow down,” Molly chuckled.

“Probably not, but we are dealing with  _thespians_ so who knows…” Sherlock quipped.

“Oh!” Molly snapped her fingers excitedly. “I just remembered my friend Mary mentioned some improv guys coming by her fencing practice last week. She probably could give us a few names. That’s a start…”

“Excellent. We should go and question her, see what she can tell us,” Sherlock replied, but his eyes were still fixed on the wall, lost in thought.

“What is it?” Molly asked.

“Just contemplating loose ends…I wonder what it was they traded for the drugs…Probably something their dealer could turn around and sell for a profit if they’re smart… but what would they have access to with that high of a market value?” Sherlock wondered.

“What about test answers?” Molly suggested.

“Test answers?”

“Mid-terms are coming up. People are stressed out over trying to keep their scholarships or getting into grad-school… Some people are willing to do anything to keep their GPA intact, including buying black market answer keys. Maybe the murderer is a teacher’s assistant…” Molly shrugged.

“Test answers…Of course! There were rumblings about a black market on campus but I never thought it would relate to Mr. Philpot’s murder. His record was too clean to be caught up in something like that…but his murderer…Just when I thought this case couldn’t get any more interesting…Once again, Molly Hooper you are absolutely brilliant! I could just kiss you!” Sherlock replied, excitedly holding her by her shoulders.

“Am I back too early?” John asked, having just reentered the room during Sherlock’s epiphany. Molly was grateful for the distraction as she felt a blush warm her cheeks.

“On the contrary, John. You are just in time. Grab your note book and meet Molly and me down stairs. We’re going to go question a friend of hers about a potential murder suspect,” Sherlock replied. “Oh and on your way down, could you flush this? Thanks!”

Sherlock handed John the scrap of blotter paper, putting on his coat and walking out the door before John could respond.

“Do I want to know?” John asked Molly with a sigh.

“Probably not. Just get rid of it, please,” she replied with a half-hearted smile.

“Right…”John chuckled, looking for his notebook.

Molly paused at the door “She’s cute by the way. My friend, Mary… _And_  she’s an only child…”

“Yeah?” John laughed.

“Yeah. Just thought you might like to know…” Molly smiled and made her way out the door to follow Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few familiar ladies come into play...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Slightly revised for here.  
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> Standard Disclaimer: BBC owns Sherlock, characters from the show, etc., etc. and I do not.

John, Sherlock, and Molly worked their way through the narrow hallway—made narrower still by the stacks of sweaty foam mats lined up against the wall—to the small gymnasium where the fencing team frequently practiced. The air was musty with the scent of well used athletic equipment and that oddly distinct ‘school smell’ that reminded Molly of her days in primary school. The muffled sound of female voices and clanging foils echoed from the gym off the painted bricks walls.

They walked in to find two women in full fencing gear in the midst of an energetic sparing match.

“What do you suppose they’re fighting about?” Sherlock joked. “Insulted honor? Dueling for the hand of the fair cricket team captain? Who gets the last jammie dodger…?”

“My name is Inigo Montoya. You ate my biscuit. Prepare to die…” Molly recited dramatically, causing herself and Sherlock to burst into a fit of giggles.

“’Ah but there’s something you don’t know…I am not left handed!’” Sherlock replied, emphatically miming pulling a sword from its sheath.

Molly drew her own ‘sword’ in kind, miming a few parries and thrusts as they play acted a duel like schoolchildren.

John gave them a sideways glance, eyebrows raised as he considered teasing them but ultimately decided against it.

“So which one is Mary?” he asked instead.

“The slightly taller one on the left.” Molly pointed, fighting a smile as she attempted to be serious once again. They were there on case business after all.

She looked to see Sherlock had found a rack of unattended foils along the wall next to them and was now playfully waving one about. She had to cover her mouth to keep from snickering.

“Put that down,” John sighed, sounding like an exasperated parent. “You’re going to poke someone’s eye out.”

“Boooo,” Sherlock complained as John replaced the foil.

Molly bit back a smile, turning her attention to the sparring match in front of them.

Mary and her sparring partner danced across the mat, matching her blow for blow until she finally saw her opening, landing the blunt tip of her foil against her opponent’s chest.

“Well fought, Morstan,” her opponent praised, removing her mask. Somehow she managed to still look elegant, her dark hair pinned up beautifully off of her neck, her makeup miraculously flawless despite the rigor of the sparring match.

“Likewise, Adler,” Mary replied, removing her own mask and tousling the sweat from her blonde pixie cut. “Just so you know, you were telegraphing your strikes a bit towards the end there. You might want to work on your stamina.”

“Ha! First complaint I’ve ever heard regarding my stamina but I’ll keep that in mind. We can’t all be as flawlessly unpredictable as you, dear,” Adler replied with a laugh as she sauntered off to her duffel bag, retrieving her water bottle.

Mary shook her head with a smile at her sparring partner.  She looked over and noticed Molly standing across the room with John and Sherlock.

“Hey you!” she greeted cheerfully. “How’d you like our little sparring demonstration? Pretty cool, right?”

“You’re a regular Errol Flynn,” Molly praised, giving her a friendly hug.

“Sorry I’m all sweaty,” Mary apologized as she embraced her friend. Molly waved off the apology. “So your text said you wanted to ask me a few questions for that murder case you’re working on?”

“Yes! Sorry for the last minute notice. By the way, this is Sherlock and—“

“John! John Watson. Lovely to meet you,” John interrupted, clearly taken with Mary as he offered her his hand.

“Mary Morstan,” Mary replied with a smile as she removed her glove and shook his hand. “John Watson… now where do I know that name from?”

“I’ve written a few articles for The Campus Strand here and there. No big deal, really…” John shrugged modestly.

“That must be it…Would you excuse me while I go freshen up a bit? Be back in a tick.” Mary smiled.

“Oh and Mols?” she added, grabbing Molly by the elbow and pulling her aside. “Warn a girl next time, huh?”

“I told you in my text that they were coming with me,” Molly defended.

“But you neglected to mention your reporter friend was such a stone cold fox!” Mary smiled as she glanced over her shoulder back at John.

“John?  _Really?_  I always thought he kind of looked a bit like a hedgehog…” Molly replied skeptically.

“A sexy hedgehog…” Mary wiggled her eyebrows mischievously.

“Alright, now you’re being gross. Hit the showers!” Molly laughed, pushing her friend lightly on the shoulder towards the door and walking back to join the boys.

“So your friend Mary seems nice,” John said with a shy smile when Molly returned.

“She is.” Molly smiled knowingly. “She thinks you’re pretty nice too.”

“Yeah?” John asked. “Did…she say anything else about me?”

“Nothing I am comfortable repeating…” Molly replied with a laugh, avoiding his eyes.

She looked over to see that Sherlock had gotten into the foils again, this time testing their weight as he tossed them in the air, clearly calculating something in his head.

“Hey there cutie!” Miss Adler greeted flirtatiously, causing Molly to turn.

“Irene. Always a pleasure.” Sherlock replied flatly, not taking his eyes off his foil juggling.

“Oh, hello Sherlock. Nice to see  _you_  too,” Irene replied with a wink at Molly as she sauntered by, carrying her duffel bag. “What do you think Sherlock? You saw my little sparring match. Do I need to work on my stamina?”

“I think you need to work on using your head a little more and showing off a little less, but that’s just a general assessment really. I wasn’t giving your match much attention to be honest.” Sherlock replied, sounding bored as he returned the foils to their rack.

“Mm, they do say smart is the new sexy.” Irene purred, examining the tip of her foil.  

“Don’t flirt, Irene. Better to save your energy for that professor of yours.” Sherlock sighed, strolling over to stand next to Molly.

Molly glanced over at John, looking for context to this conversation. He only shrugged, clearly as out of the loop as she was.

“But I’m so good at it,” Irene pouted, her eyes smiling.

She mischievously pulled the tip of her foil back, taking aim to flick Molly on the bum. Sherlock caught it before it could make contact, startling Molly with his sudden movement, and shot Irene a look. He released her foil and took a step to the side, positioning himself protectively between Molly and Irene.

“You’re no fun.” Irene smirked, putting her foil in her bag.

“So I’m told,” Sherlock sighed. “We are here for a case I’m afraid, so unless you have any interesting information regarding the murder of Mr. Philpot…”

“The janitor? No, I suppose he was a bit below my paygrade, wasn’t he?” she mused. “No Sherlock I’m full of interesting tidbits of information but I’m afraid things pertaining to your little murder mystery are not among them. Perhaps another time, another case?”

“Perhaps.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“…What about answer keys? Know anyone trying to sell those?” Molly squeaked.

Irene paused on her way out the door, turning to face Molly, her eye brows arched in intrigue. Molly regretted that she’d said anything. Something about Irene made her uncomfortable. She had a look in her eyes that made her seem like she’d just read your diary and was debating who to share it with.

“Why? You looking to make a purchase?” she asked coyly.

“I’ve heard rumors of a black market on campus,” Sherlock supplied, saving Molly from having to come up with a further reply. “We have a theory that our killer was involved in it in some form or other.”

“I see…”Irene replied, her composure slipping just a hair. “No I wouldn’t know anything about that sort of thing. I’ll, um…let you know if I hear anything of interest…”

“You’ve got my number.” Sherlock smirked.

“Right. Well, I’d better be off to my next appointment. Can’t keep the good professor waiting too long, can we? Good luck on your case.” Irene smiled, regaining her confident exterior as she sauntered out.

Molly let out a breath, glad she was gone.

“How exactly do you know  _her_?” John asked Sherlock.

Sherlock gave John an annoyed glance at the implication of his tone. “She had a thumb drive stolen last year. I helped her get it back. It was all very professional, so you can return your eyes to their sockets, John.”

“I was just curious,” John replied, defensively holding up his hands.

“Sorry about the wait,” Mary chuckled, returning freshened and preened from the locker room with her things.

“No problem,” Molly responded, eager to change the subject.

“So what was it you wanted to ask me about?” Mary asked cheerfully.

“Right! Um, so you know those improv blokes that you mentioned came by a while ago?” Molly rubbed the back of her neck, trying to think of the best way to explain their theory.

“Jack and Connor?” Mary asked. “Yeah sure…Oh you don’t think they’re mixed up in all of this? They seemed so nice.”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Did either of them seem like they might have been… _using_  at all?”

Mary shrugged. “Hard to say. They were seemed fairly clean cut when I worked with them, but we only had the one session. Jack and I talked about doing an extended workshop—he was wanting to prepare for his audition for Hamlet but it never panned out…Too bad. He was getting pretty good. They both were. They had this whole bit about pirates making a fruit salad…”

“Do you still have their contact information?” Sherlock asked.

“Sure. I’ve still got it all on the flyer they gave me right here,” Mary pulled a folded neon paper from her bag and handed it to Sherlock.

“I was afraid of this…”Sherlock sighed, looking over the flyer.

“What?” John asked, looking up from his notebook scribbles.

“Hope neither of you have plans tonight…We’re going to an improv show…” Sherlock shuttered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and the gang go to an improv show!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Slightly revised for here.  
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> Standard Disclaimer: BBC owns Sherlock, characters from the show, etc., etc. and I do not.

Molly fidgeted with the sleeve of her jumper as she waited in the bustling lobby of the Saintsbury Theater for Sherlock and John to arrive, watching people mill about. There was a decent crowd; two, maybe three dozen people. A full house for the size of the room the show was to be performed in. The improv troupe had booked the smallest of the three spaces held within Saintsbury; a sparse little stage with folding chairs for seating. Typical venue for a university level improv theater performance. Molly sighed, hoping it wouldn’t take too long for everyone to clear out after the show.

The plan was to question the improv troupe members under the guise of John’s press credentials for the Campus Strand, in hopes that one of them might have some insight on the identity of Sam Philpot’s mysterious killer. That is, assuming that no one among them actually  _was_  the killer, which was a distinct possibility…

 _ooh boy…_  Molly exhaled and busied herself by reading the various flyers posted on the bulletin board. There were some interesting shows lined up in the coming months. She’d have to try and remember to make an effort to see one of them before the semester was over.

Molly felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Sherlock standing behind her in his classic blue scarf and belstaff, his cheeks still flushed from the chilly walk from the dormitory.

“Hey,” She greeted cheerily. “I was beginning to wonder if I was going to need to save you boys a seat.”

“John was having trouble picking a shirt,” Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes.

“Speaking of…where is John?” Molly asked.

“Right here,” John answered at the sound of his name, holding up his candy concessions purchase as he joined them.

“You’ve arranged a time for questioning after the show, correct?” Sherlock confirmed, sensing John’s head was not 100 percent in the game tonight.

“Yeah. Spoke to Jack over the phone this afternoon. Told him it was for the paper, just like you said.” John replied, his eyes focused on the text he was currently composing.

“And you’re texting him now to reconfirm?” Sherlock asked.

“What? No. I’m texting Mary… It’s fine Sherlock. You’ll get your interrogation before the night is over,” John chuckled, mostly containing his irritation at Sherlock’s lack of confidence in his ability to set up a simple meeting.

“I’d better…”Sherlock sighed, clearly dreading the show before them. “Wait. Why are you texting Mary?”

“She’s meeting us here. I told you that,” John replied.

“Did you? That explains the shirt…” Sherlock muttered under his breath.

“Oh! She’s here. I’m going to go meet her outside. You two head in and grab us some seats.” John grinned excitedly.

“I’m sure she’s more than capable of finding her way inside a building on her own, John,” Sherlock retorted, but John had already left, leaving Sherlock and Molly standing alone.

Molly smiled as she watched John scamper off to meet his date. She thought he and Mary were cute together.

“Shall we head in?” She asked Sherlock.

“I suppose…” Sherlock replied glumly, bracing himself as if he was going into battle and not an amateur theater production.

“You changed your hair,” he observed as they paid for their tickets and walked into the dimly lit theater.

“Just felt like doing something different.” Molly replied, fiddling with the end of the low braid that draped along the side of her neck instead of up in her usual high ponytail.

“It’s…nice.” Sherlock complimented awkwardly as they took their seats.

“Thanks…” Molly smiled, trying to will the butterflies in her stomach to calm down.

She was saved from having to come up with a further reply as John and Mary slid into the two available seats behind them. Mary gave them a big smile and a friendly wave as a silent greeting, the improv troupe taking to the stage as they settled into their seats.

Sherlock sighed, audibly bored as the troupe made their opening introductions. Molly chuckled and patted his arm reassuringly.

“It’s not going to be that bad…” she whispered.

“It’s amateur improv, Molly, of course it is going to be  _that_  bad,” he whispered back, already sounding absolutely miserable.

Molly bit back a smile and thought a moment. “Well…how about we make a game of it,” she offered. “Improv is about making things up as you go, right? You can text me your deductions. See if you can predict where the scene will go next.”

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched upward, his eyebrow raised, intrigued by her proposal.

“Hmm…Alright. I’ll give it a go.” He pulled his phone from his coat pocket, silencing the ringer as Molly did the same.

The troupe started with a scene in a saloon on Mars.

_Gunslingers are both being conned by the barmaid._

_…Why is the Saloon AI in love with the Martian?_

_Martian deputy is going to take the fall in eventual shoot out…_

_Did not anticipate the long lost brothers angle. Bit of a lazy way to resolve the scene…_

Next came ‘deleted scenes from the Titanic’

_Iceberg lettuce pun in 3…2…1…_

A scene at the post office subject to genre changes suggested by the audience and called out at random by one of the troupe members not in the scene.

_Spy thriller_

_Zombie movie_

_Romance-SH_

_Poorly dubbed foreign film-MH_

_Good call!_

_They’ll end on Musical. Makes for a good showstopper-SH_

“Now for this next scene, we will need a few  _volunteers_  from the audience…How about the nice couple texting in the fourth row,” the redheaded troupe member called out.

“I think he means us…”Molly whispered nervously.

“Come on. Don’t be shy! It’s all in good fun,” the actor prodded, coming down into the audience to bring Molly and Sherlock up on stage with him.

“Oh no. That’s…really…we’re not…” Sherlock protested in vain. It would appear ‘volunteer’ was a relative term…

“Go on Sherlock! It’s all in good fun,” John teased as Sherlock was dragged down the aisle, hitting record on his phone with a wicked grin.

The redhead…Dylan?—Molly was pretty sure he’d said his name was Dylan—handed her and Sherlock a microphone as he explained their role in the scene.

“Alright! So the name of the game is  _Sound Effects_. Jack and I will play out our scene while you two provide the sound effects. Simple enough, right? What’s your name miss?” Dylan asked with a friendly smile.

“Molly,” Molly replied timidly into the microphone.

“Good golly, Miss Molly! Lovely to meet you. Molly, you’ll be providing the sound effects for me. And your name, sir?”

“Sherlock…” Sherlock replied flatly, not happy about being dragged on stage.

“Sherlock? Wow. And I thought my parents were mean… Ha! Just teasing old bean. Sherlock, you will be providing the sound effects for Jack.”

“No kidding…” Sherlock muttered under his breath.

Molly gave him a half smile, pleading him to just play along.

“Alright can I get a suggestion for a scenario…I heard first day of work! And a location… farm! Perfect. First day of work on the farm. Ready Jack?” Dylan clapped his hands together, rubbing them excitedly.

“Ready when you are,” Jack replied, rolling up his sleeves.

They set themselves and began the scene.

“Gee Mr. McDonald, I really am grateful that you gave me this job,” Jack stated peppily.

“Of course, Billy. Happy to have you on board. Your grandfather and I go way back, you know. Let me just get this gate and I’ll show you around,” Dylan replied, miming opening a waist high gate.

“Squeeeeak,” Molly said timidly into the microphone.

“Watch out for the melodramatic mice,” Dylan chuckled.

“Awww they’re so cute!” Jack cooed, bending over to look at the open air where they’d mimed a gate.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but glanced over at Molly to give her a crooked half smile. “Squeak squeak…” he said in a reluctant falsetto.

“Oy! That’s a big one!” Jack gasped.

“We’ll just step around them…” Dylan and Jack overacted giving the area a wide berth.

“Alright! Now, here is where we feed the chickens…”

Molly and Sherlock both made clucking sounds, fighting a laugh as they glanced over at each other, both feeling a little ridiculous.

“This one is Susie. That one is Beatrice. This is Henrietta…” Dylan pointed to the imaginary chickens.

“What about that one?” Jack asked, pointing to a random spot on the floor.

“That is Larry! Careful… He’s a mean one.”

“BawkAWW!” Sherlock crowed, imitating an angry rooster. Molly had to lower her mic as she fought a giggle.

“Geez! Alright mate. Don’t worry. These chicks are  _all yours_ …” Jack jumped back, hands up defensively.

“He’s mostly talk,” Dylan assured. “And over here we have our dairy cows.” Molly and Sherlock started mooing. “Think you’re up for milking on the first day?”

“I’m willing to try…”Jack replied hesitantly.

He and Dylan got down on their knees and started pantomiming milking two cows. There was a soft rumble of laughter from the crowd.

“Mooo!” Molly said into the microphone, a little louder than she intended. Sherlock was deliberately trying to get her to laugh now, making subtle goofy faces at her whenever she glanced his way. The crowd laughed along with her, though not for the same reason.

“Sorry, old girl! I know I usually buy you dinner first,” Dylan chuckled.

“I’m feeling ambitious. How about I milk another…” Jack mimed moving over to milk another cow.

“Moooo,” Sherlock said in a low baritone.

“Not that one! That’s the bull…” Dylan said in fake horror.

“ _Aaaannd_  scene!” Jack announced in mock embarrassment, ending the sketch. “Give it up for Molly and Sherlock everybody!”

Sherlock gave a small bow while Molly did a modest curtsey. He took her hand and helped her off the stage and back to their seats.

“Thanks for being a good sport about that,” Molly whispered as they sat back down.

“Well if you can’t beat ‘em…” Sherlock smirked. “It was only fair. It’s a bit rude to text during a performance, Molly.” He gave her friendly wink.

“Kept you entertained didn’t it? Better that than you looking like a miserable sourpuss the whole time,” she replied, crinkling her nose at him.

“When have I ever been a sourpuss?” Sherlock asked defensively, flashing her a smile.

John coughed, muffling a laugh as he overheard their conversation.

Sherlock turned around to stick his tongue out at him childishly. John stuck his own out in response, grinning when Mary laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder to muffle the sound. John took the opportunity to casually stretch and put his arm around her.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but smiled for his friend as he turned around in his seat. He was quiet for the rest of the performance, keeping on his best behavior lest he be pulled onstage again. It was unlikely, but he wasn’t going to put it past this gaggle of ‘actors’ to try and turn him into a running gag. He contented himself to leaning over and whispering the occasional deduction to Molly, but only the best ones. 

* * *

Once the performance was finished and the rest of the audience had left, Molly, Sherlock, John, and Mary gathered on stage with the improv troupe for their ‘interview.’

“Right then. Shall we get started?” John asked, taking a seat opposite the troupe.

“Are all of you with the paper?” a troupe member named Colleen asked.

“Of course,” John bluffed. “Molly is the, um…”

“Photographer,” she interjected, pulling out her phone to take a picture. “And Sherlock is my uh, assistant.”

“Your assistant?” Jack asked incredulously. “But you’ve just got your mobile. What is there to assist with?”

“Oh you know…” Molly glanced at Sherlock, inviting him to jump in at any time.

“I set up the shots. Molly takes them. It’s a team effort,” Sherlock replied dismissively as he wandered around the stage.

“That and he makes a great cuppa,” Molly joked.

John smirked and shook his head, mouthing “not really…” at the troupe, eliciting a laugh.

“And what about you miss?” Dylan asked Mary.

“Me? I’m just his date.” Mary grinned at John from where she lounged on the edge of the stage.

“Yes, very good. We’ve all got a part to play,” Sherlock sighed, strolling over to stand next to Molly. He held his hands up, making a square with his pointer fingers and thumbs to frame the ‘shot.’

“Hmm…no…” He walked over to the group, having one person adjust their seat an inch to the left, asking another to fix the stray hair in their face, no doubt making deductions about each person as he did so.

 _Clever_ , Molly thought.

“That should do it…Molly, whenever you’re ready,” he prompted, stepping away from them.

“Hm? Oh right…Say ‘cheese’ everyone!” Molly snapped a photo on her mobile and pretended to examine it. “Perfect! That should be just lovely. John, I’ll um, let you take it from here…”

“Thank you,” John replied as Molly went to sit with Mary. Sherlock strolled around the stage, seemingly aimlessly, twirling his phone in his hand. Probably ready to feed John questions if need be, Molly guessed.

“Well first off…great show,” John started, pulling out a pen and notepad and setting his mobile on the chair to ‘record the audio.’ “How long have you been rehearsing together?”

“For this particular group we started at the beginning of the semester. I joined 2 years ago during my freshman year,” Dylan replied

“Last year,” a troupe member named Braden interjected, raising his hand.

“Three years ago next spring,” Colleen added, going down the line.

“Four years ago. I’m the grandpa of the group,” Jack chuckled.

“Just joined this semester,” a curly haired girl named Amy added.

“Connor joined up three years ago too, right Colleen?” Braden asked.

“Yeah that’s right. I think he joined a semester before I did.” Colleen nodded.

“Connor called in sick earlier today,” Jack explained. “We normally include a few sketches that we wrote ourselves in the show, but most of them we needed Connor to do so we had to scrap them tonight.”

“Oh yeah! Mary talked about the sketch you and Connor had trained for with her. Something about pirates making fruit salad? I’d have liked to have seen that,” John commented, pausing in his notes.

“Yeah that was a fun bit. Messy! But fun,” Jack chuckled halfheartedly.  “We felt it was best to cut it what with…well you know what happened. Out of respect, you know?”

The troupe murmured in agreement.

“That’s probably for the best,” John agreed. “So what do you guys do when you’re not performing? What are your majors?”

“Theater major.” Jack laughed. “I’m pretty much either rehearsing, or performing all the time. I’m going out for Hamlet later this year.”

“Education major. Focusing on teaching English as a second language,” Braden offered.

“Music Ed.” Colleen added.

“Particle Physics.” Amy grinned shyly.

“Really? Wow! That’s great,” John complimented. “And what about Connor? What does he do in his time off stage?”

“Connor’s a film studies major. He’s been working on a screenplay for as long as I’ve known him. He entered a few short films in that big film contest last summer. Almost won too.”

“Almost?” John asked.

“He missed the big prize by this much.” Jack held his fingers a few millimeters apart. “But that’s showbiz for you…Felt bad though. He really took it hard. He’d been counting on the prize money to help kick start his next project. I almost didn’t expect him to come back this semester. He pulled through though. Got himself a TA gig to help ends meet.”

Sherlock looked over at Molly. She pressed her lips together nervously, nodding slightly, confirming she had the same suspicion.

Sherlock gave her a crooked smile and focused on his mobile, typing away.

“You alright?” Mary asked.

“Yeah, just a little tired I guess,” Molly replied unconvincingly. Suddenly what lay ahead of them began to feel very real.

Mary rubbed her back reassuringly, giving her an understanding smile.

John asked a few more run of the mill questions of the troupe before wrapping up the ‘interview.’ Even if their hunch was a bust, he had enough material to write an actual article.

“So what do you think?” Molly asked Sherlock as they exited the theater.

“I don’t think Connor is as sick as he claimed, for one…” he drolled, eyes alight with excitement. “Why don’t we go pay him a visit?”

“You really think he’s our guy?” Molly shoved her hands in her jacket pockets against the chilly night air.

“Only one way to find out,” he grinned. “Come along John! We’ve got another suspect to question over in Gillette Hall.”

“Mind taking this one without me?” John asked. “Mary and I were going to take a walk around the quad.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Molly Hooper.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the way his face lit up from the thrill of being on a case. So sure of himself and excited. It was electric. Almost contagious.

She smiled up at him. “Let’s go storm the castle.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock question a suspect...  
> *Warning: contains descriptions of drug use/intoxication*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Slightly revised for here.  
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> Standard Disclaimer: BBC owns Sherlock, characters from the show, etc., etc. and I do not.

Sherlock and Molly laughed as they walked briskly into Gillette Hall to escape the cold night air.

“I still can’t believe we got pulled on stage like that,” Molly smiled, shaking her head.

“I can…” Sherlock chuckled. “I’ve made a note to delete the memory …although your cow impression was pretty spectacular. You’ll have to remind me of that particular detail.”

“Fat chance of that!” Molly laughed.

“Oh come on… Remind me how that went again?” Sherlock grinned.

“I’m not doing that cow sound again. You know how it went.” Molly looked down with an embarrassed smile, starting up the stairs to the dorms on the second floor.

“No, I’m already having a hard time remembering…” he replied teasingly, feigning ignorance.

“No! I’m not asking you to repeat your rooster impression,” Molly chided with a chuckle.

“What? You mean…BAWKAAAWW!” Sherlock shouted at the landing, taking advantage of the stairway’s echo.

“Yes. That…”She giggled as they reached the second floor.

Sherlock gave her an amused smile, reveling in their silliness.

“So…what’s are plan, exactly?” Molly asked as she followed Sherlock down the hallway.

“We find Connor. Ask him a few questions. Get a few answers. If all goes as I think it will we’ll get a confession out of him and slap these on him until the proper authorities arrive,” Sherlock replied, casually pulling a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket.

“Do you always carry those with you?” Molly laughed in surprise.

“Of course. You never know when they’ll come in handy,” Sherlock shrugged.

“Is that so?” Molly raised an eyebrow at him, a suggestive smile on her lips.

“For on a  _case_ , Molly! Honestly. Get your mind out of the gutter,” Sherlock scolded with a smirk.

“I can assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied innocently.

They reached the closed door of Connor Williams’ dorm.

“Do you suppose he’s home?” Molly asked.

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Sherlock smiled confidently.

“Connor? Jack said you weren’t feeling well. Wanted us to come check on you,” Sherlock lied, his voice friendly. He gave a little knock on the door causing it to creak open slightly.

Sherlock and Molly shared a surprised look before Sherlock pushed the door open further to step inside. Molly followed timidly.

They found Connor slouched on the floor, leaning against his desk. His eyes stared dimly, pupils dilated, following his hand as he swayed it lazily back and forth. His face was pale and beaded with sweat. The contents of his desk were strewn about the floor in a mess of papers, books, and broken glass from an upended picture frame.

“Connor? Are you alright?” Molly asked carefully, knowing full well he was dangerously intoxicated.

Connor blinked up at her from the floor. “Will you look at that? A little fairy princess! Hi Princess,” he giggled incoherently.

“Connor, we’d like to ask you some questions…” Sherlock started, evaluating the room and the strung out coed before them.

“And a dragon!” Connor gasped, sitting back against his desk slightly. “Watch out Princess! Don’t let him catch—ooohhoohhoo…” he started giggling again as he lost his train of thought, distracted by his hand as he pointed at Sherlock.

Molly’s medical instincts took hold of her as she carefully made her way through the chaotic maze on the floor to kneel beside him.

“Connor…My name is Molly and this is Sherlock. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay,” she said gently, looking him over for any signs of injury or danger of overdosing.

“Sssuuuuure…you seem nice…” Connor smiled childishly at her.

Molly noticed some crumpled blotter paper on the floor next to them and picked one up gingerly.

“Connor…Did these have drugs on them?” She asked carefully, holding up the paper for him to see.

He nodded lazily.

“And you took them?”

He paused and gave her a sheepish nod in reply, his eyes sad. “Helps me write. Sometimes I get stuck…but I’m not stuck now!” He smiled and wiggled a bit where he sat to demonstrate for her.

“How much did you take?”

He shrugged, his head lolling a bit.

“Who did you get the drugs from?” Molly asked gently.

“I dunno…” Connor mumbled in reply.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sherlock asked.

“Means I don’t know scale-y mate,” he replied affrontedly. “No names involved. No names. No face… always wears a mask. Just a simple trade. Simple…”

“What did you trade?” Sherlock prodded.

Connor groaned. “Whatever they asked for I guess… A little information here. A few answer keys there…don’t be disappointed in me, Princess… it doesn’t really matter…nothing matters here…” he sighed, his breath stuttering in his chest. Molly couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a cry.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” she asked.

Connor’s shoulders began to shake as he leaned his head back against the desk drawers and covered his eyes with his hand, a laugh escaping his lips. “Academia is all a big joke…It’s all a joke! And we’re the punchline…Just a big, sick joke…He doesn’t even read any of it, you know…”

“Who?” Sherlock inquired.

“Professor Jenkins! He doesn’t read any of the stuff he grades. Not really… It’s all  _‘commas in the right place, no misspellings, and you’re good to go!_ ’ He doesn’t care about the content. He doesn’t care…So why should it matter if everyone has the answers or not? And to think I asked him to read my screenplay…It was all going so well until that  _thing_  in the stairwell…”

“What thing in the stairwell?” Molly coaxed.

He looked at his shoes petulantly.

“Were you at the library the other night?” she asked carefully.

Connor bit his lower lip. “Wasn’t supposed to go like that…” he mumbled.

“How was it supposed to go?” Sherlock took a step closer.

Connor shook his head. “Like it always did before? …A simple exchange of the goods. No fuss… no mess…”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Molly gave him a gentle smile, placing her hand on his arm.

“I don’t really remember…”Connor mumbled, shifting his weight.

“Try,” Sherlock urged, kneeling down to get on eye level with him. “What were you doing at the library?”

Connor swallowed. “I was…what’s the word…dancing?…Choreographing! That’s it…choreographing a scene for my next film. I went to the library to research a few sword techniques…I wanted it to be authentic to the style that we had so I brought the sword with me to compare…I like to make everything as real as I can…so much in the industry is fake nowadays…it’s a novelty when it’s real…”

“And then?” Sherlock coaxed.

Connor gave Sherlock an annoyed look. “Don’t rush me…My contact had arranged a meeting earlier and texted me that they were at our usual spot… I gave them the latest keys. They gave me enough Lucy to last for weeks. I took a little sample then and there—Gotta make sure they’re still giving you the real deal. Ooooh was it the real deal! Hehehe…but then I hear this rumble of thunder and this…this kaiju comes towering down on us. It was so loud…so loud…roaring ‘What are you kids doing?’…it was going to take it all away and swallow me whole…I felt this push from behind me and the saber was in my hands and suddenly…I was a samurai! It was like something took over my hands and stabbed the kaiju…but then it wasn’t a kaiju anymore… I didn’t mean to kill him. Everything was so loud…he was going to take it all away…I finally had some control in my life and he was going to take it all away…” Connor swallowed and stared hazily at the air in front of him, remembering.

Sherlock sighed, his eyes filled with something close to pity as he pulled out his mobile. “Connor I’m afraid we’re going to have to turn you in.” The light from his mobile shone on his face as he composed a text.

Connor’s eyes snapped to attention, blinking angrily as he processed what Sherlock was saying.

“No…You want to take it all away too…No. NO! Not happening, mate.” Suddenly Connor grabbed a large shard of glass in one hand and grabbed Molly about the waist with the other, putting the broken edge to her throat as he pulled her in front of him, bringing them both to their feet. “I’ve slain a kaiju…I’ll slay you too, Dragon if I have to! I’ve got your princess so don’t even think of trying whatever spell you’re concocting…”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide. He held his hands up, phone on display, and slowly rose to his feet.

“Connor…just take it easy. You don’t want to do this,” he stated, his voice measured.

“Don’t tell me what I want to do!” Connor yelled.

“Sherlock…” Molly pleaded.

“You don’t have to do this…just let her go…please.” Sherlock fought to keep his voice gentle and even, his thumb subtly moving across his phone.

“No dice. Not while you’re holding that magic glowing scroll.” Connor shook his head, his grip around Molly tightening.

“It’s just a phone…” Sherlock assured him. “Just a phone…”

“I know a glowing scroll when I see one,” Connor replied defensively.

“How about we make a trade?” Sherlock proposed. “The princess for my…scroll.”

Connor thought a moment. “Yeah, alright. No funny business, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sherlock replied. “On the count of three then? One…two…”

Molly stomped down hard on Connor’s foot causing him to drop the shard of glass and release her. She rushed to Sherlock’s side and was enveloped in his arms instantly. He drew her into his chest, gently stroking her hair as a ragged breath escaped her lips.

Suddenly John and Mary burst through the door, the distant sound of sirens echoing in the night air. Mary pointed a gun at Connor, her face serious, her hands steady.

Connor held up his hands, one bleeding from the glass he’d held, laughing in defeat.

“So the dragon summoned his knight and her squire to come rescue him? Interesting twist…”

“Shut up.” Mary commanded.

“Do you always have that with you?” John asked Mary.

“You try being a woman on campus,” she responded cheekily. “Problem?”

“No, no. Just having a bit of a time processing how incredibly attractive I find you right now,” John replied honestly.

Mary grinned, keeping her gun pointed at Connor.

“John, if you could control yourself long enough to put these on Mr. Williams until the authorities arrive…” Sherlock fished the handcuffs from his pocket and handed them to John with his free hand, keeping his other arm protectively around Molly.

John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock as he took the handcuffs from him.

“Please don’t start flirting with me too, John,” Sherlock joked. “They’re for cases! I’m not Mrs. Hudson.”

“Didn’t need to know that last part,” John muttered to himself, securing the handcuffs on Connor’s wrists behind his back.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock breathed, cupping Molly’s face in his hands. His aquamarine eyes were filled with worry as he looked her over, pulling her close to him, stroking her hair, preventing her from being able to respond.

“I’m so sorry, Molly. I’m so sorry…I never thought…”he whispered into her hair as he held her tight, breathing her in.

“Sherlock it’s alright,” Molly replied into his t-shirt.

She managed to look up at him. His hand came up to caress her cheek as she held his gaze.

“I’m alright. We’re alright,” she assured him.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he searched her face, making sure she truly was unharmed. He leaned forward, crashing his lips against hers, cradling her gently to him. Molly inhaled in surprise, but quickly reciprocated, weaving her fingers in his curls, drawing herself even further into him.

Somewhere in the room, police officers entered and milled about, taking Connor away. All this was drowned out, seemingly muted and distant to the two of them as they remained locked in a tender embrace.

When they finally broke apart, Sherlock met her eyes, his face surprised and searching, so unsure of what to say.

An officer cleared his throat, interrupting Sherlock’s train of thought to ask him for his statement.

“Of course, I’ll um, be right with you,” Sherlock replied, clearing his throat.

He opened his mouth to say something,  _anything_  to her, but words seemed to fail him. Sherlock Holmes was, for the first time in his life, speechless.

Molly gave him a soft smile, placing her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze, letting him know it was okay.

He pressed his lips together in a final search for words before giving up. He gave her a small smile, his eyes filled with so many emotions as he left her side to go speak with the officer.

Molly let out a heavy sigh, wrapping her arms about her waist as her legs threatened to give out underneath her.

“Hey,” Mary said comfortingly, wrapping her arm around Molly’s shoulder. “It’s been quite a night, huh?”

“Yeah,” Molly huffed out a laugh. She let out a deep breath as she looked about the room.

“How about I walk you home?” Mary offered.

Molly looked over at Sherlock, busy talking with the police. He’d likely be a while and she suddenly felt incredibly drained. Hesitantly, Molly nodded and let Mary lead her out of the room, glancing over her shoulder at Sherlock as she left. He glanced her way and caught her eyes as she reached the door, giving her a quiet, unsure smile before answering another question for the officer he’d been speaking to.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock discuss where their relationship stands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Slightly revised for here.  
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> Standard Disclaimer: BBC owns Sherlock, characters from the show, etc., etc. and I do not.

Molly made her way nervously down the Hall of Baker-Streit to 221b, the events of the night before playing in her mind. Though one event in particular seemed to stand out above the rest. One that had kept her up all night thinking, replaying, questioning, longing…

After Mary had walked her back to her dorm room, Molly received a solitary text sometime around 1 am.

_“Good work tonight. –Sherlock”_

She’d spent hours staring at that simple little phrase, trying to craft a response that would convey a fraction of what she wanted to say, before eventually drifting off to sleep, phone in hand.  _It was probably for the best_ , she decided.  _Better to say her piece in person…_

She was beginning to regret that decision now that she was faced with the reality of going through with it…

As she approached 221b, she could hear a familiar voice lambasting Sherlock from his open doorway.

“—what you were thinking going into a situation like that. Ill prepared, un-researched…I am  _not_ explaining this one to Mummy for you.”

“The police arrived in plenty of time. No one was harmed. Why should Mummy have to hear about it?” Sherlock countered with a sigh.

“Because when she does find out, as you know she  _will_ , she will blame  _me_!” Mycroft hissed.

“Oh I’m counting on it.”

Molly could hear the smile in Sherlock’s voice as she edged closer.

There was an audible sigh from Mycroft, one that seemed a lifelong habit.

“If you must insist on throwing yourself into dangerous situations in the future, do contact me first. I could have had a swat team at your side in half the time.”

“That seems a little overkill, don’t you think?” Sherlock quipped.

“ _Fine._  A helicopter perhaps…” Mycroft conceded. “Not that I really ever expect you to willfully enlist my help. I  _am_  a bit disappointed Miss Hooper didn’t attempt to contact me…”

“She wasn’t exactly in a position to do so,” Sherlock huffed.

“Perhaps not. Still, I thought her a sensible sort of girl, albeit a bit blinded by your charm… I shall report to Mummy that you’re well then?”

“Please do.” Sherlock’s violin began to play.

Molly felt a panic rise in her chest as she heard Mycroft’s dress shoes tread against the wooden dorm room floor and contemplated turning around and making a run for it. Before she could move, she found herself face to face with the elder Holmes.

“ _Miss Hooper_ ,” Mycroft greeted cheerily, his voice pointedly elevated enough for Sherlock to hear. “Always a pleasure.”

Sherlock’s violin came to an abrupt stop.

“Mycroft,” she acknowledged with a curt bob of her head, ducking around him to enter 221b.

“Molly,” Sherlock welcomed, sounding a bit surprised to see her. He stood in his pajamas and dressing gown, violin still hovering in hand.

“Hey, Sherlock.” Molly smiled shyly.

They stood for a moment, silence hanging in the space between them.

“You, um, left rather abruptly last night,” Sherlock attempted.

“Yeah, sorry about that…Mary offered to walk me home and I assumed you’d be busy with the police, so…”Molly offered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Did everything go alright after I left?” She ventured a step forward.

“Yes, everything went fine.” Sherlock nodded, setting down his violin. “Connor is in custody and gave a ready confession once he’d sobered up, I heard. Although, I am afraid given the information he spewed before his arrest that he may not have been the hand behind Mr. Philpot’s murder, so much as he was the instrument…It would certainly seem there are more nefarious works at play within the network that he was involved in…”

Sherlock stuffed his hands in his dressing gown pockets. “So I understand completely if you’d like to step down from working on any further cases…”

“So what’s our next move?” Molly asked, her words overlapping with his.

Sherlock blinked at her in confusion. “I don’t understand…after what happened I assumed you wouldn’t want anything to do with me…my cases…”

“Is that so?” A dubious smile spread across her face. “Well then, you and I remember the events of last night very differently, Sherlock…” Molly resolved herself to be brave and closed the distance between them to stand in front of him.

Sherlock pressed his lips together, casting his eye down to the floor rather than meeting her face. His hand cautiously wove its way into hers.

“You could have been hurt…”he murmured.

“But I wasn’t,” Molly reminded him. “We got out of it together, remember?”

“Could be dangerous…what’s ahead…” He still wouldn’t meet her eyes, though his thumb began to graze gently along her hand.

“Yes, I’m counting on it.” She smiled up at him.

The corners of his mouth twitched up at her confidence in the face of impending trouble.

“I’m not very good at whatever…this is,” he admitted hesitantly. “It might be better if we just…”

“Just forget? Is that what you really want? To forget that you ever kissed me last night?” Molly asked quietly.

“No! No Molly, some memories I could not delete even if I wanted to…” He squeezed her hand a little tighter.

“So you…You don’t regret it?” she asked shyly.

“To the contrary, Molly,” he replied, finally meeting her eyes. “I would very much like to repeat it…But you should know I can be a selfish, insufferable, arrogant git. Ask John! He’s told me so enough…” Sherlock chuckled and Molly couldn’t help but smile with him. “…I wouldn’t ever want to be the reason you were hurt, Molly…”

Molly raised her free hand to his cheek. “Do you want to know what  _I’ve_  deduced about you, Sherlock?” she asked gently.

He looked down at her curiously, his eyes shining.

She continued. “John is right. You can be arrogant and selfish, even at times thoughtless…”

“I never said thoughtless,” Sherlock defended.  Molly smiled up at him and he bit his lip, letting her finish.

“But you can also be incredibly thought _ful_ in your own sort of way. I’ve seen you be protective and caring, kind and attentive… You may question your ability to be these things but I know that you already  _are._  You know your mind so well Sherlock, but I’ve seen your heart.”

He smiled softly down at her. “Still so sentimental in your deductions, Molly. I thought you were going to work on that,” he teased.

“Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from my  _sentimental_ deductions,” she retorted with a smile, gently twining her fingers in his hair.

“I have a feeling there are several things I could learn from you, Molly.” He grinned cheekily, bringing himself a step closer, now only mere inches from her. “We’ll figure it out together then?”

“I’d like that very much,” she replied.

He gently wrapped his hand around the base of her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her tenderly. Her hand left his to caress his cheek and explore his bedhead riddled curls, lips moving to deepen the kiss as she felt his arm cradle her back.

“Ahem!” John cleared his throat, causing the two of them to pull their lips apart, too startled to untangle themselves from one another completely as they turned to look at John and Mary standing in the doorway, holding their coffee cups.

John raised an eyebrow with a questioning smirk at the two of them.

“Molly’s back on the team!” Sherlock supplied a bit helplessly.

“Ah. That’s…good. Hadn’t realized she’d left. We’ll, um, leave you to it,” John replied, backing away from the door.

Mary grinned and offered them a big thumbs up before following John, closing the door behind her.

Molly blushed as she turned back to face Sherlock, his forehead pressed against hers.

“He’ll get used to it,” he promised.

“You think so?” Molly laughed.

“He’d better.” Sherlock grinned wickedly, lifting her up and twirling her around, eliciting a squeal from her lips as he did so.

“So the game is still on, then?” Molly asked as he set her down.

“Indeed it is,” he replied excitedly, lacing his hands with hers. “What do you say? Partners in deduction?”

“I like the sound of that.” Molly smiled, placing another kiss to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a review/general thoughts in the comments!


End file.
